Chapter 100: Land, If You’ll Have Us
The pier was already crowded by the time James and Bonnet arrived. A dozen men waited along the planks with pistols and cutlasses still sheathed. They watched the water the way an artillery crew watched a fuse after it had been lit, calm enough, right up until the moment it wasn’t.
James recognized a few new faces, though most were still strangers. Even so, every man had a purpose, no one lounged about nor one looked eager for a fight.
Beyond them, the Black Fortune rested against the morning glare, her dark hull unmistakable. Her guns remained run in, but anyone coming through the water would see them well enough.
The first shallop slipped through the bight, then three more followed behind it. All four rode so low a man could have trailed his fingers over the side without bending much, while their sails had more patches than original cloth, the canvas faded by years of salt and sun until it looked the tone of old bone.
Every inch of deck that ought to have held cargo was packed with people instead. Women, children, elderly folk. Spanish colonists in clothes stiff with dried salt stood shoulder to shoulder beside Africans who looked as though freedom had found them only recently.
James counted hulls, guessed at the numbers, and reckoned close to eighty souls. Not one of those little boats looked built to carry even a third that many.
"Christ," someone muttered farther down the pier. "I’m amazed they didn’t swamp crossing the bights with a load like that."
James had thought exactly the same thing. He kept it to himself.
The lead shallop eased alongside the pier, and before the mooring lines were even secured, two people rose from the packed crowd.
The first man over the side couldn’t have been much past twenty, shoulders like a pair of ale casks shoved beneath his shirt, the sort of build that came from years swinging machetes through cane instead of lifting weights for the pleasure of it.
An older woman came after him, one hand brushing his arm as she stepped onto the planks. The Caribbean sun had carved its years into her face, but there wasn’t a trace of frailty in the way she held herself. She looked less like an old woman than the head of a family that had long since learned everyone else would wait for her to speak first.
They stopped where they stood.
The young man glanced over the men on the pier. The older woman looked at them one by one, slowly enough that nobody mistook it for nerves.
James stepped forward and offered the only Spanish he had ever managed to use with any success.
"Bienvenidos." He spread his hands, palms open. "A la bahía."
The rest came out with far more confidence in his gestures than his words.
"Nadie aquí les hará daño."
The young man’s shoulders eased.
"You speak Spanish bad, but you try."
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "I am Mateo Salazar. This is my aunt, Elena Salazar."
Bonnet stepped forward before James was able to reply. He gave a polished bow that belonged in a fine drawing room in Bridgetown far more than on the weathered planks of a pirate dock.
"Señora Salazar."
He straightened with grace. "I confess you and your people must have endured a terrible ordeal. Please believe you have reached those who intend you no harm."
Some relief softened in Elena’s expression. Simple courtesy had managed enough.
"We are from ingenio, plantation."
She lifted her chin. "Sugar, small place, east of Cuba. Hurricane take cane two years, then owner sell everything. Land, mill."
Her expression tightened.
"Not us. He no want us anymore. Say find somewhere else."
"So we found somewhere else."
Mateo took over as though they had told the story many times already. "Unfortunately, Havana ask for papers we do not have, and people who look like us disappear after too many questions. And we hear Nassau eats men whole and spits back whoever survives."
"Then why come here?" James asked. "The whole Caribbean lay open to you."
Elena met his eyes without wavering.
"We heard rumors of a bay beyond the islands."
She searched his face. "A free harbor, built by captain for people tired of running. Is it true?"
Joy spread through James’s chest.
Sixty Fate on a rumor.
Back in his old life, he’d thrown real money at investments that looked far more convincing and watched them evaporate because some politician decided tariffs sounded like a brilliant idea that week.
This one had actually paid dividends.
Or, rather, nearly eighty of them.
"Aye." His grin came easily. "True enough."
Elena held his gaze for another heartbeat, then gave a single nod. Whatever she’d been looking for, she’d found enough of it.
The silence continued between them for a heartbeat before Bonnet stepped in.
"Then the rest of this conversation can wait."
He offered Elena another courteous nod. "Your people have spent days at sea in boats never meant for such a voyage. Food first, fresh water. Dry beds, where we have them, and blankets where we do not."
Mateo blinked, as though the offer had caught him off guard.
"You would do that?"
"My dear fellow," Bonnet replied, "I’d consider it poor hospitality not to."
Elena looked from Bonnet to James.
"And after?"
James folded his arms.
"After ye decide whether this is truly what ye came looking for."
He glanced toward the town beyond the shoreline. No one’s getting turned back to sea, but this place wasn’t built for folk to sit idle either. Everyone who can work does. We build together, we eat together, and we keep the bay standing together."
Mateo nodded without hesitation. "We didn’t come asking for charity."
"We ask only for land." Elena chin lifted, steady now. "If you’ll have us."
"Land, if I’ll have ye." James laughed. "Aye. Gladly."
James clapped his hands once. "Let’s get yer people off those damned boats."
The pier sprang to life while sailors reached down to help elderly passengers over the gunwales.
One gray-bearded man nearly pitched straight into the water before two crewmen caught him beneath the arms and hauled him upright, leaving him laughing despite himself. A boy no older than eight clutched a small wooden carving against his chest as though it were the last piece of the life he’d left behind.
One woman began crying the moment her bare feet touched solid planking, making no attempt to hide it. Every face had exhaustion and relief followed so closely behind that James could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.
He stepped back and watched nearly eighty new souls spread across the ground he had claimed with little more than stubbornness and a reef most captains avoided.
Two weeks ago it had been nothing more than a quiet bay.
Now it was becoming a home.
"Mateo. Elena."
He nodded toward the town beyond the shoreline. "Walk with me a moment, both of ye. There’s more I’d like to hear, and it’ll be easier said away from all these ears."